


Long Outlast the Winter

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Early Queen (Band), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: New Year’s Eve, 1970. Roger is looking back on the last 12 months and Brian tries to help him stay optimistic about the future.
Relationships: Brian May & Roger Taylor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Long Outlast the Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Written partially because I'm always emotional about early Queen and the moments of insecurity they might have had, but also as a self-indulgent response to the garbage fire that was 2020 and to remind myself to stay optimistic about the new year so I mean... I don't want to say read with caution, but if you aren't in the mood for positive outlooks on the future right now this might not be the fic for you.

Brian finds Roger sitting out on the back steps, a cigarette held loosely in his fingers and a thin tendril of smoke trailing up into the cold, clear skies. “I was wondering where you went,” Brian says as he steps outside and lets the door swing shut behind him.

“Needed to get away for a minute,” Roger mumbles. He sighs as Brian drops down next to him and adds, “Y’know, that was supposed to imply that I wasn’t looking for company.”

“I know,” Brian says, and he knows that Roger isn’t really that upset that he’s sticking around. “Just wanted to make sure you’re alright. It's not like you to be hiding away from the party like this.”

“Not hiding,” Roger says. “Just… needed a moment to think. That’s all.”

On another day Brian might tease him about making sure he doesn’t hurt himself by thinking too hard, but something tells him that the joke wouldn’t be appreciated right now. “What about?” he asks instead.

“This past year.” Roger takes a drag off his cigarette and turns his head so the smoke doesn’t blow towards Brian. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on New Year’s Eve, anyway?”

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” Brian says. “Freddie seems more concerned about the quality of the champagne you bought for the evening than any introspection, for example.”

Roger snorts and mutters, “I think Freddie might have the right idea of things here.”

Brian doesn’t respond to that. He’s known Roger for just over two years now, long enough that he can tell when his friend still has more on his mind, and so he stays quiet and gives Roger the space he needs to gather his thoughts.

Roger absentmindedly taps the ash away from the end of his cigarette, the action more automatic than conscious. He’s staring out into the darkness of the back garden, seemingly unaware of the noise of their neighbors or the muffled music drifting out of the flat behind them. Whatever he’s out here thinking about is clearly weighing on him heavily and that worries Brian a little, and he drums his fingertips nervously against the stone steps as he waits for Roger to say something.

Roger finally sighs, and takes another drag off his cigarette, and as he exhales the smoke he asks, “Did you ever think this is how we’d be ending the year?”

Brian considers the question for a moment. “There’s been a few surprises along the way, I suppose.”

“A few surprises.” Roger shakes his head. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“It really hasn’t been that bad,” Brian tries to tell him.

“Last December I really thought that this was going to be our year,” Roger says. “We had those two recording sessions last year, it seemed like Smile was finally going somewhere… Now it feels like we’ve taken a dozen steps back and we’re starting from square one again.”

“We’re not,” Brian says. Roger snorts derisively and Brian insists, “Rog, we’re _not_. The new band’s doing well with Freddie, we’ve had loads of gigs and more are already booked for January-”

“Yeah, and Tim’s gotten on Top of the Pops,” Roger interrupts, and Brian closes his mouth so quickly that he can hear his teeth click together. “And meanwhile, we’re going to need to find a third fucking bass player for Queen-”

“Barry hasn’t left yet-”

“But he’s on his way out, and you know it,” Roger snaps.

He raises his cigarette to his mouth again, and scowls when he sees that it’s gone out on him. Rather than relighting it immediately, though, he taps the end against his leg, not caring - or simply not noticing - the ash that gets smeared over his worn jeans as he does so.

After a moment Roger continues, a little quieter, “I knew we’d need two people to replace Tim if we took Fred on as our singer, but I didn’t think it’d be this hard to find a bassist that fits with us. And without a permanent bassist we don’t have much hope of going somewhere with this. Not that we have much hope there anyway, considering we haven’t got any serious interest in the band and we’re just playing the same old venues, and-”

“And all that can change next year,” Brian says, interrupting the deluge of worries from his friend. “Nothing stays stagnant forever.”

“Yeah, well, it fucking feels like it after this year,” Roger grumbles.

He’s really upset about this, Brian can tell that clear enough. It’s a little strange to see so much despondency from someone who’s always looked to the future with bright eyes and his head held high. Brian isn’t used to being the one who needs to be optimistic and he takes a moment to weigh his words, trying to figure out the best way to pull Roger out of this funk without inadvertently making things worse.

“Look, the new decade might not have started off the way we wanted it to, but that doesn’t mean that we’re worse off than we were last year,” Brian says slowly as he tries to make his point as clearly and carefully as possible. “We’re just on a different path than we were before, that’s all. It’s a step sideways, maybe, but it isn’t a step back. And next year we’ll keep moving and things will keep changing, and in twelve months you won’t be here again and you won’t be the same person that you are now.”

Roger is quiet and Brian doesn’t even know if he’s making any sense here at all. He sighs a little, and looks up at the dark sky overhead as he tries to find the thread of whatever point he was trying to make.

“Don’t tie yourself up in knots thinking about what this year _could_ have been,” he says after a moment. “It’s over and done with, and the only thing that matters now is what _can_ happen next year. And I don’t know what that will end up being, but I do know that if you let yourself get bogged down with regrets or if you try to keep living in the past, you’ll only lose sight of where the future can take you.”

“Hmm.” Roger finally relights his cigarette and takes a long draw off it, mulling over Brian’s words for a minute before he finally says, “When did you get to be so level-headed about this shit?”

Brian laughs at that, and the pit of worry in his stomach starts to fade away. “It’s part of my doctorate work. They make you learn how to be a wise, scholarly professor before they’ll give you your degree.”

“They fucking do not,” Roger says with a snort.

“Sure they do,” Brian says. He stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his elbows, and gives Roger a lopsided grin. “Or maybe I am just talking out my ass here. Still seems like a bit of optimism will do you more good than anything else.”

“I suppose that’s not the worst advice I’ve ever heard,” Roger admits. He’s nearly finished with his cigarette, and Brian tilts his head back up to watch the last of the smoke disappear into the winter sky above them.

“You think there’s any of that shitty champagne left?” Roger asks as he stubs out his cigarette butt and flicks it away.

“Probably, but even if there isn't there should still be that beer in the back of the fridge,” Brian says.

“We should go get some something to drink then, before the others finish it all off.” Roger stands up and reaches a hand down to help pull Brian to his feet, but even once Brian is standing he doesn’t let go right away.

“Thanks,” he says, quietly. “For not just saying that I was being stupid about all of this.”

“You say a lot of stupid things, but this definitely wasn’t one of them,” Brian tells him, and Roger laughs and finally lets him go. “C’mon. Let’s go inside before Freddie sends out a search party to find us.”

“Right, well, once more unto the breach, I suppose,” Roger says with a grin and, with his shoulder knocking against Brian’s, the two of them head back into the flat.


End file.
